One of the most remarkable things about living in Southern California is the complete mixing of ethnicities and heritages and backgrounds. I’m not getting political here, if you have never met someone from Zimbabwe, here’s your chance.

My daughter, with her dark brown hair, skinny physique, and olive-ish skin tone, looks like. Well… Honestly, they kind of all look alike. (I know that is politically incorrect, but it true.) From 50 yards away.

Yes, yes. I know that is a terrible thing to say. But…

Here’s my story.

I am in the bleachers, next to a sister of Ozzy’s teammate. Her name is Jen.

I point and ask, “Is that Ozzy?”

Jen: No, that girl is Armenian.

Me (pointing): Oh. Ok, how about her? That’s Ozzy, right?

Jen: She’s Mexican.

Me: And her?

Jen: She’s Thai. And she’s Korean. And she’s Chinese.

Me: What about…

Jen: She’s a blond.

Me: Oh, so she is. How about her..

Jen: Mr. Ozzy’s Dad. That’s not even her team!

Me: What?!

Jen: She’s over there (pointing), and she just stuck her landing!

Me: WhooHoo! I knew you (or anyone at your skill level, physique, and general physical appearance) could do it!